Hermia Challoner caught her by the arm. "Oh, I don't know--only he
isn't the kind of man who'd send me roses. I think he's something
between a pilgrim and a vagabond, a knight-errant from somewhere
between Heaven and the true Bohemia, a despiser of shams and vanities,
a man so much bigger than I am that he can make me what he is--in
spite of himself."

"Hermia! A Bohemian! Such a person will hardly be found--"

"O Auntie, you don't understand. I'm not likely to find him. I'm not
even looking for him, you know, and just now I don't want to marry
anybody."

"I only hope when you do, Hermia, that you will commit no imprudence,"
said Mrs. Westfield severely.

Hermia turned quickly.

"Auntie, Captain Lundt of the _Kaiser Wilhelm_ used to tell me that
there were two ways of going into a fog," she said. "One was to go
slow and use the siren. The other was to crowd on steam and go like
h--."

"Hermia!"

"I'm sorry, Auntie, but that describes the situation exactly. I'm too
wealthy to risk marrying prudently. I'd have to find a man who was a
prudent as I was, which means that he'd be marrying me for my money--"